


Apples

by A_Writing_Pen



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenris Week 2016, Hawris - Freeform, M/M, fenhawke - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 22:08:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7124245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Writing_Pen/pseuds/A_Writing_Pen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For day 2 of Fenris week.</p><p>They have both been scarred by a life on the run, but maybe together they can make the most of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apples

“Of course you grabbed apples,” Hawke said, taking a bite from the apple in his hand.

“I would have preferred to have grabbed some bread and dried meat as well.” Fenris’s said in disapproval, but he couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“We could try again. There’s a town up ahead, or better yet, you could try your ‘fisting trick’ on any Templars that show up this time. Strictly for stealing their coins, of course.”

“Of course.”

In the last town, they had visited to restock their supplies, they were ambushed by Templars. It was another small village between the base of the Vimmark Mountains and Planasene Forest. They were planning to cross the mountains and cross the border into Nevarra, hopefully hiding their passage by taking the least traveled route, but in the short time since the chantry explosion their enemies had tracked them farther than they expected.

Hawke was in the middle of purchasing their wares for the mountain travel when Fenris spotted some beggar pushing through the crowd towards them and a troop of Templars behind him. Even hooded and drawing as little attention as possible, there was no hiding from “The Champion”’s infamy, even in a mountainside hamlet. Mid transaction, Fenris grabbed Hawke’s outstretch arm and turned to run. Hawke didn’t need to see the Templars to know that they were running for their lives, though the shouts from the armored men were enough to confirm who was chasing them. In the mad dash out of the market, Fenris grabbed a hanging burlap sack of apples and they both sprinted out into the woods, losing the Templars. Since, the two of them started the climb into the mountains and they resigned themselves to straining their limited supplies.

Returning to a life on the run was easier than Fenris expected, perhaps because for most of his years in Kirkwall he expected to return to it. As much as he loathed the idea, the only things keeping him in Kirkwall were Danarius and Hawke, one he had buried and the other he would gladly follow to the end of the earth. Life on the road came back to him like muscle memory; how to sleep while maintaining awareness of his surroundings, traveling at night or off hours to reduce the chances of being spotted, learning how to live off scraps and the endless travel.

Hawke hadn’t fared as well. Until now, Hawke said nothing; no banter, crude jokes, or even bawdy Ferelden tavern songs he enjoyed every now and then. They had left Kirkwall still burning, and Fenris knew that Hawke could still see and smell it every time he closed his eyes. He would see those flames until his own body was burned in his funeral pyre, should either of them be so lucky. For now, at least, they could focus on the road.

“Running from Templars again,” Hawke said under his breath. He stopped, reached back as far as he could and threw the apple core as far as possible.

“I’ll hold onto the rest of these,” Fenris said, tying the bag of apples closed.

“So you can eat them all.”

“I may be so inclined if you insist on mentioning it.”

Hawke gives a weak laugh, not the usual chesty laugh that boomed through walls, but enough for now.

“Did I ever tell you that I lived in Highever before Lothering?”

“No.”

Hawke removed his cloak, saying it was getting in the way and the weather was too damn hot to be hiking in. Fenris took off his hood but kept his cloak on as they walked. The path became steep the farther they traveled and dusk would be on them in less than an hour. The one benefit of traveling on the run with a mage was that creating a fire was never a problem. They found a small enclave and set up camp for the night. They were far enough into the mountains where they were unlikely to be followed, but still Fenris only let the fire grow large enough to warm them and extinguished it before they slept.

“You mentioned Highever,” Fenris said.

“Yes, I did.” Fenris thought the conversation ended there, but Hawke spoke again. “We left when a friend of Bethany’s found out she was a mage.”

Fenris said nothing, he simply listened when Hawke was ready to speak again. Hawke’s voice tended to grow quiet whenever he mentioned Bethany, more so in the past few years.

“We had a few scares with me. I wasn’t as careful, always wanting to show off, but I got away with it because I was alone or one my parents caught me. I caught on after their reaction the first two times. It only happened to Bethany once and was a complete accident.”

Bethany’s gift revealed itself when she accidently sent a school bully flying across an open field. The boy and three of her schoolhouse friends had seen it before the moon had reached its peak that night, they packed their few belongings and fled. Lothering wasn’t the original destination, they only knew they had to travel south. The indignity he saw his family go through on the road he never wanted to relive, and hadn't until the Blight began.

“We stopped in Denerim first. Left a bad taste in mouth ever since. In a city it was easier to hide in plain sight, but there was little for the poor. We only stayed a short while, long enough for Mother and Father to scrap together some coin, but Beth and I hated it.”

Denerim had one of the largest chantries, and a chantry meant Templars. Highever had Templars too, but having had to flee their home and stay in a strange city, the reality of what could happen hit harder. Bethany stayed mostly in their dwelling, a small two-roomed home they had to share with another family. He remembered hiding with Beth in one of the cupboard when a Templar came to the door, giving a proclamation. The day they left the city gates, he felt he could breathe again.

Lothering was easier, but part of the fear never left, of their friends and neighbors catching a whisper, a glint, of an unnatural fire or spying one of their training sessions with Father. Bethany became more reclusive, staying at home on most occasions while Carver when off to the army. The first year he kept a bag in case they had to flee again, and it became a reinforced habit to keep the things he would need where he could grab in a hurry. That practice had ebbed in Kirkwall, his pack kept for late night missions rather than flight. It was that same pack he carried with him now.

“So I’ve lived in Highever and Lothering before Kirkwall. I’d say I have about a 7 to 10-year expiration date wherever I land. ” He concluded.

“We’d best find a new place to land then,” Fenris said.

“And where would that be where my name isn’t cursed or the death toll shouted?”

“I doubt The Dales care much about the Champion of Kirkwall.”

“A bit too bloody right now.” He said, “Even if most of them are being shot at by Dalish arrows. Antiva could be interesting, or Rivain.”

“You do recall that Isabella from Rivain.”

“That’s something to ponder. Where would you like to go?”

“It hardly matters. I’ve followed you this far, do you think I would stop now?” Hawke smiled. “Though, don’t choose the Anderfells,” Fenris added.


End file.
